


Stained

by nicmacallan



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 15:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21340231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicmacallan/pseuds/nicmacallan
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

Rey had never felt cleaner.

The path of resistance was proving to be long and rocky, fraught with constant peril and long, sleepless nights.

Showers - a non existent luxury back on Jakku - were a wonderful new ritual, but due to the rebel base's strict rationing protocols, they were always over far too quickly.

Few and far between, these showers were the only moments when Rey was truly alone with her thoughts. She grew to love the pounding and pressure of the water. But the more days that stretched to fill the space between her last encounter with...him...the silence began to deepen and gnaw.

Ruined.

Because of him, she started to dread those moments, when she was laid bare, naked and raw, alone with her thoughts.

Torture.

That's what it felt like. Self inflicted and constant. A never ending test of will, which she constantly failed. Always, her mind would spin with questions. What could she have done differently? What could she have said? What would have happened if she had chosen differently? What if there had been another way? Not light or dark, but something in between? A silver line, running between them?

Every day was filled with battles, but none so exhausting as the ones Rey fought in her own mind. Like the vision in the cavern, alone in the dark, surrounded by strangers who wore the same face. Lonely, always lonely. Cold, uncertain, full of regret.

But cleaner than she'd ever been.

At least, on the outside.

It wasn't until yesterday, during a supply run to Takodana, that Rey had her very first bath. With all that was going on in the universe, Maz Kanata insisted that Rey and Chewy spend the night in her home.

"Get some rest," she said. "You have earned it, and more."

Chewie had gone straight to the cantina, but Maz brought Rey to a place she called a "spah," which was filled with odd smells and vapors of exotic colors. And more, indeed.

Red and purple steam swirled together invitingly as Rey let herself be scrubbed and massaged every which way, then oiled and powdered until she shone.

When she finally caught sight of herself in a plaque of polished metal, Rey almost gasped in surprise. Eyes bright, cheeks pink, hair falling in soft curls around her face, a loose white caftan swirling around her ankles...she looked like a completely different person. Someone shimmering and full of hope. Someone who hadn't been touched so often by darkness.

That night, sprawled in the softest bed she had ever touched - let alone slept in - the New Rey lay still, breathing more deeply than she had in months, without a thought in the universe. Peaceful. Content. Unburdened.

Sleep claimed her suddenly, deeply.

It was then, for the first time in many months, Rey began to dream.

She dreamt of a life she had never lived, or if she had, a life she couldn't remember.

Rescued from Jakku at the age of seventeen, brought to a strange new land by a robed old man with kind eyes. Before the hope had left her heart, before she had begun to doubt.

He left her on a planet that was covered in water, but for small clusters of green hills that jutted out of the silver sea. So much green. More lush and beautiful than she could've imagined. It was Ahch-To, but younger. Teeming with life and purpose. There, she met a small group of others her age, Late Comers who were strong in the Force. She soon learned what that meant, that something inside her had called out to them, these Others from all across the galaxy, who were all so different but also, somehow, so familiar. Others like her. Late, but not forgotten.

It wasn't long before she noticed him. The tall young man with dark eyes, a deep voice, and a shy smile. Always wearing gray, always shifting his weight from one foot to another, like he was waiting to take off and fly.

"Ben Solo," the others whispered. Reverently. He was a Skywalker. That meant something important, Rey knew, but she wasn't sure exactly what. So she watched him. Hoping to discover.

A Skywalker, well, that would explain his graceful way of moving. He barely made a sound when he walked. Rey wished she had the courage to ask him how.

But he was a teacher, not a student. It was forbidden to speak to them unless first they spoke to you. Oh, how she wished Ben Solo would speak to her. But he never did. Hardly to anyone, but especially not to her. As time went on, Rey learned to speak with her actions. The others hated it when she showed off, but they seemed to hate her less when she beat them all without comment. Once, after she handily disarmed three of her classmates, she turned away to hide a triumphant smile. Just in time to catch Ben Solo watching from between the trees. He quickly looked away, and Rey wondered if she was only imagining the smile she'd seen tugging at his lips. If it had been there, she decided, it definitely wasn't meant for her.

When the others slept, Rey liked to sneak out and practice by herself on the beach. Sometimes swinging a practice saber, sometimes swimming and taunting the monsters of the sea with her ability to snatch herself away from their jaws at the last second. A dangerous hobby, but an exhilarating one.

The night Ben Solo caught her at this game was the first time she ever heard him raise his voice. He called her reckless, and sent her back to her hut for three days of solitary meditation.

She thought of him almost the entire time.

Weeks went by, and Rey began to make up a new game, much more exhilarating than gambling with the sea. She would poke at the edges of Ben Solo's seemingly endless patience, until it began to crack. When that happened, she would win a rare glimpse of the fury that roiled beneath his placid exterior.

Childish though it was, Rey loved the idea that she was the one weakness that Ben could not resist. Even if it was annoyance instead of attraction, at least he reacted to her. It was a start.

One day, she challenged him to a duel in front of everyone. His answer was a stoic glare. The jeers of her fellow students almost masked his reply. Almost, but not quite.

"Careful," he said, so softly.

That night, she closed her eyes and pictured his lips forming the words. Careful...careful...as his hands reached for hers, as his lips caressed her face. Careful.

On her nineteenth birthday, Rey decided she had been careful long enough.

She crept out of her hut and stole to the beach, stripping off her clothes and diving into the water. "I'm done being careful," she told the sea, between strong strokes. "Come and get me, or let me go."

She was almost a mile from the shore when something closed around her waist from behind. Strong, smooth and pale in the dark water. Like no monster she had ever seen. Rey smiled ferociously, laughing up at the moon. Triumphant, she turned in his arms. His dark eyes burned into hers, hair slicked back, lips wet. His mouth captured hers, once, twice. Floating together, they tangled like weeds. The current dragged them toward the shore, but they didn't let go.

When the pair finally washed up on the beach, both were breathing heavily, limbs entwined. Their struggle with the sea had very little to do with how her heart pounded, Rey knew.

He was the breath in her lungs, the blood in her veins. His skin against hers was all the warmth she needed. His eyes told her all she needed to know. Neither of them were experienced in this game, so there would be no teacher and no student here. The thought thrilled and terrified her.

"Rey..." he whispered her name, in that same tone. The careful tone. Reverent, yet full of warning. Or maybe a promise, if the heat in his eyes was any indication.

Rey took his hand in hers, guiding him to where she wanted - no, needed - to feel his touch.

"Are you sure?" He asked. His voice shook slightly. Was it possible he was actually afraid? The unshakable Ben Solo, afraid of her? The thought made her heart skip a beat.

Rey refused to be afraid. Not now. Not ever again.

"Do you want this?" She pressed her lips against his neck, loving the sensation of his pulse pounding beneath that smooth, pale skin. "Do you want me?"

Jaw clenched, he swallowed. Rey watched the lump in his throat and held her breath. She wanted him more than anything. More than life. More than—

"More than anything."

Rey exhaled, and Ben Solo finally touched her. His hands caressed her chest, her thighs, no longer careful or shy. Hungry. Desperate. Before her eyes, her gentle Jedi turned into a dangerous man. Determined to conquer her body with his own. His movements were anything but timid, as he stroked and grasped, twisted and tasted.

Rey felt a cry building in her throat, and she reached out, clutching his strong shoulders for balance.

"Ben!" She moaned, writhing against his body, desperately trying to bring him closer. "Please, Ben, I need you!"

It was at that moment, back arched and lips parted with burning pleasure, that Rey woke up.

No longer lying on a moonlit beach in another reality, but alone in a soft white bed on Takodana, sheets tangled around her legs.

Except...she was not alone.

Blinking into the darkness, Rey gasped. The dark eyes that met hers were the same as the ones she'd dreamt about. The arms that has enveloped her, pale and strong, were the ones she'd imagined pulling her safely from a treacherous sea. And his hands were...oh god.

His hands were right where she had put them.

Touching her. Intimately. In ways she had begged to be touched only seconds before. It felt discordant, like laughing and crying all at once. Yet, the pressure inside her continued to build, a force she was powerless to stop.

That face...the smooth face of her beloved Ben, with its shy smile and careful temper, was now the face of her enemy. Scarred and twisted with desire, lips curling with male satisfaction. Bare chested, trousers undone, Kylo Ren hovered above her, panting in time with her own ragged gasps. For a brief moment, his eyes seemed to flicker with doubt. But then he smiled, and bent to claim her mouth with his.

Stunned, Rey didn't push him away. But she didn't return the kiss. Instead, she tried to process what was happening. Was this another dream, or had the force connected them again?

"Ben." It was a test, the way she whispered his name. A test for him, or for her. She wasn't quite certain. He didn't answer, but his smile disappeared. His hands moved against her, more insistently. Rey groaned. "Ben, please...I need...I need..."

"You don't know what you need," he whispered. "But I know. I know you want this. More than anything.

With those words, Rey felt her world exploding. Eyes shut tight, she tensed and screamed. It felt like her body was being torn apart, atom by atom, only to be pulled back together by a gravity she could not control or begin to understand.

Universes colliding, reality ripped apart and sewn back together with threads of pure light. Years of wanting imploded in an instant, and nothing would ever be the same. She would never be the same.

When the shaking finally subsided, she opened her eyes. He was gone.

Kylo Ren was gone, if he had ever been there at all. Ben Solo was gone. She was truly alone.

Rey had never felt dirtier.


	2. Chapter 2

Something within me has always been there. ...But now it's awake. And I'm afraid.

"Do you want this? Do you want me?"

"More than anything."

In the weeks since...since that night, Rey had barely slept. She told herself it was for the security of the rebels, or because she had too much else to do. Sleep was a luxury she couldn't afford, as the sole Force user left to protect the Resistance. She had to remain alert, in control at all times, in order to block any influences the dark side could muster.

But deep down, far beneath the logic, she was afraid. Not of Him. Of herself.

Rey was afraid of her dreams most of all. Of what she felt, in the quiet, in the dark. What she wanted.

Or, more truthfully, who she wanted.

Always, he was there, at the corner of her eye. Shadowing her every move, the same way the memory of that night seemed to shadow her every waking thought. Waiting. Just out of sight, just out of reach, yet impossible to ignore.

Sometimes, when the sleep deprivation began to corrode her ability to focus, Rey would hear his voice in her head. Unbidden and unwelcome, it wrapped itself up in the folds of her mind like a silken snake, suffocating her ability to forget. And to remember. Remember what, she couldn't quite say. Perhaps it was all the reasons she should forget.

"Why do you try so hard to ignore this?" The voice was as soft as a distant rain. As deep as the sleep she'd been missing. As seductive as...NO. She would not go back to that place. That state of mind born in a place which had never existed. HE had never truly existed, not the one she wanted. Not that Ben.

"Why do you fight?"

"Because you are wrong," she whispered back, vehemently. Hunched over her workbench in the hold of the Falcon, Rey worked a variety of broken parts between her fingers, scrubbing them clean until her fingers felt raw and stiff with the effort. "You are wrong, and bad, and evil, and-ouch!"

A rusted bolt fragment poked through the rag, slicing a gash in her already blistered finger. Rey kicked the bench in frustration, watching deliriously as various parts skittered to the floor. There was a small sense of satisfaction in the sounds they made, the realistic dinging of alloy and chrome. Her sense of reality was restored, and she felt more alert, if only for a moment.

Just as she had back in Jakku, Rey used hard work to distract herself from things she could not afford. Food enough to fill her belly completely. A home that felt truly safe. Friends. Dreams. Family. Love.

"STOP IT." Angrily pressing her fists against closed eyes, Rey tried to regain control of her emotions. Her vision blurred, and the Falcon seemed to shift. Her body tilted to the side, like a listing ship in a cosmic hurricane.

"Rey." Strong hands grasped her shoulders, steadying her before she could fall. "You need to sleep."

Tears of frustration burned, threatening to spill. He was so close, so real. So warm. She could even smell him, that foreign yet all too familiar scent of Corusscian Leather and smoke. Charcoal from the brazier in his quarters. And a hint of something else, something she couldn't quite place. Was it salt? It didn't matter. Not unless it could tell her where he was, and reassure her that he couldn't touch her like this any time soon. Not in real life.

"You have no idea what I need," she hissed, weakly struggling away from his grip.

She hated herself for needing sleep. Hated him for tormenting her. Hated the First Order for their hatred, which seemed ironic and a bit ludicrous, but her state of mind was not to be trusted. Were it not for this war, for their childish need to conquer, for their insatiable selfishness and greed, she may very well be free at this moment. Free to sleep. Free to stop fighting.

"You're one of them. You're one of the reasons I can't rest." Desperately, Rey pushed away, and his hold released. She refused to look back at him, even to check if he'd finally gone. "Why can't you stop? Why can't you just let the past die, as you keep saying? Let me go, let all of us live in peace."

Even as she spoke the words, she knew they were impossible. Darkness rises, and light to meet it. The Force demanded balance. You could not have one without the other. If it weren't her, it would have to be someone else. Somehow, that didn't seem fair.

"I will do as you ask," he whispered, running a finger lightly along the naked skin of her shoulder. Seemingly calm, but she knew the sound of thinly masked desperation. It was a tone she frequently recognized in herself.

"Rey," Kylo Ren pleaded. "I will do...anything you ask, if you will let me take care of you."

Care? Care. "Careful…." An echo from a fantasy, a different moment in time. But it wasn't real.

"Careful," Rey said, her voice flat. "Don't let your friend Hux hear you pledging allegiance to a rebel piece of scum like myself."

A sudden rage curled her fingers into a fist, and she turned and swung before fully realizing what she was doing. Instead of connecting with a solid form, she fell through the air, stumbling with exhaustion toward the metal floor. Her last coherent thought was "this is going to hurt, and I deserve it."

But she didn't land. Or if she did, Rey didn't feel it. Instead, she found herself floating through a cloudy, ethereal state of pure unconsciousness. There, it was finally quiet. There, it felt safe.

Somehow, she knew he couldn't find her there. That he was forbidden, the same way they were barred from seeing each other's surroundings. This was a magical place, a place she had created for her mind to hide. A place where there was no light or dark sides, no war, no promises, and no pain. No desires. Only peace.

Unfortunately, it didn't last.

"Rey. Wake up, please."

A jolt of pain in her arm. A moment of gray half-awareness, followed by a stabbing arc of light. Rey woke to an array of familiar, but very concerned, faces.

"There she is." Poe's smile was playful, but relieved.

"I told you, she only fainted!" Finn looked decidedly miffed. "You didn't need to zap her."

"Hey, that's what the manual said we should do."

Chewie made a series of growling noises that Rey was still too confused to decipher.

Poe looked up at the wookiee in surprise. "What do you mean, that's only for droids? It says right here: First Aid for...Ohhhh FirstAid⟴. Like the brand of med-bots. You're right, that makes more sense."

"Rey, are you okay?" Finn really was so cute with his forehead all wrinkled in concern. If only he knew the extent of the problem. But Rey couldn't bear to give her friend one more thing to worry about.

"Yes, I'm fine," she struggled to sit up, but Chewie held her down easily with one hand. Paw.

"Argh-ggg," he roared, gently.

"Alright, I'm not," she conceded. "But I will BE fine. I just need to lie down in my bunk for a while, that's all."

With that, Finn looked away. Poe bit his lip, in that charming yet infuriating manner he had, which usually meant he was holding back on saying something impertinent. Chewie snorted.

The instant she remembered, Rey felt terrible. "Or if Rose is still recovering, I can lie down right here. I'll just get a blanket from storage, and-"

"No, it's fine," Finn said. "She's probably ready to take a little walk around. I'll help her up, and we can get her some exercise while you-"

"Take my bunk," Poe held up a hand, "It's smaller, but nobody needs it at the moment. Least of all me."

If anyone besides Rey caught the slightly bitter subtext in that statement, they didn't let on. Still, it was best not to make an issue out of it. Quarters were far too close these days, and it was best to keep the peace if at all possible.

Peace…. A fleeting glimpse of gray, like the rough-hewn tunic of a Jedi master. Before Rey could grasp at the feeling, to fully experience it, it was gone.

With help from Finn and Chewie, Rey got to her feet and Poe led the way to the smallest bunk in the darkest corner of the Falcon. Until they reached their new hideaway, this was home for all of them. "Divide and conquer," as General Orgona had said. But for now, it was more like "divide and hide." Three stolen crafts, each connected only by a single cloaked binary beacon, forming an equilateral triangle.

Three points of resistance across an entire galaxy. They were all that was left, and a third of their number were wounded, terrified, or - like Rey - on the verge of losing their minds. It was a terrible kind of mathematics. But it was the reality in which they found themselves.

Reality. Such a harsh word for such tenuous times. If given the choice, Rey would gladly embrace a different type of existence.

If she was honest, that was what terrified her most. Deep down, she knew that's what Kylo Ren was offering her. Something she'd never truly had in all her life: a choice.

With that single thought, Rey felt his presence returning. She stumbled over a crack in the floor, and would've fallen again, if it hadn't been for her two strongest supporters. Literally.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I'm just tired, wasn't watching where I put my feet."

"Don't worry, we'll get you somewhere quiet. You can sleep for hours. Nobody will bother you."

Finn's voice was so reassuring. Always with that tone of absolute hope and love. Unstoppable love, that was what drove him. Love for his friends, for what was right, for each and every moment of life. Rey envied his innocence, if not his ability to put his faith in all the wrong places.

The universe was not a fair place, as Rey had learned first hand. And not all those who deserved happiness were destined to find it. Just look at Finn and Rose.

Just look at...look at what had happened to Ben.

As she made herself comfortable - as comfortable as she could be, anyway - in Poe's tiny sleeping space, Rey closed her eyes and tried to banish the image of wide brown eyes glinting with lethal green light. Shock. Betrayal. Innocence bleeding away as she watched.

Was it really Luke she blamed? Or was it the Force itself? Were it not for the Force, Luke never would have been able to read his nephew's mind. He never would have wondered, or doubted, because Ben had never done anything but give everything he had. Up until that point, Ben Solo had been committed, stable, loyal.

"Now, the only thing you're loyal to is yourself," Rey whispered. She could feel him, hovering nearby. But she didn't dare raise her voice, in case someone passed by and heard.

"I am nothing if not loyal," Kylo Ren replied. "But only to what I value most dearly. I am loyal to you, and will prove it. Soon."

A phantom hand brushed across her forehead, leaving the scent of smoke and leather in its wake. Along with frustration, sorrow, and regret. Rey pressed her eyes closed even more tightly, but she could feel his warm breath on her face. She pretended she didn't feel the soft caress of his lips on hers, or the tingle in her skin they left behind.

How dare he. How DARE he? Rey opened her eyes, and for the first time in days, she allowed herself to stare directly into the face of her enemy. Her most persistent nightmare, and her fondest dream, and her deepest regret. All rolled up in a single person, a broken person, cloaked in black leather and ringed with smoke.

"You ARE nothing," she said. "Especially to me."

With those words, his presence was gone. Rey was left alone, finally alone, with her thoughts. And her lies.

There was nothing left to do but lie back and embrace the gray.


	3. Chapter 3

Every night, it was the same. The nightmare. Or maybe it was a memory. Alone in the dark, reaching. No matter how he focused, how he strained, how he stretched his mind...Kylo Ren could not reach the one he sought. Always just out of reach, tantalizing, ephemeral, she eluded him in every possible way.

Stay with me. Please. Join me.

It always ended painfully. A blinding explosion of light, followed by the slow dawning of cold realization. He had been abandoned, yet again, surrounded by hatred on all sides. Helpless. Only a breath away from being cut down by his enemies. Enemies who wore the costume of allies, lying in wait for any sign of weakness on his part. Always poised to strike. But not fast enough to kill him. Not yet. Not today.

Each time, Kylo would awaken gasping, reaching for his lightsaber. Ready for an attack that wasn't coming. At least, not yet. After finding his composure, he would lie back and regulate his breathing, refusing to fall back asleep until he regained control of his mind. Inevitably, his first waking thoughts were of her.

"Rey, where are you? Why do you hide from me? Why do you fight this connection we share?"

Lying in bed, sweating with the exertion of his efforts to locate her, Kylo felt himself sink deeper into a state of despair. All around him, darkness absorbed the light. The walls of his chamber reflected nothing, amplifying his solitude.

To him, she was everything. And to her, he was nothing. The person he was, the man he had chosen to become, was nothing to her. Rey had made that abundantly clear. The only value he had ever had was that of a dream. Someone she had never even met.

"Ben?" Her voice, soft and subdued, yet so full of hope. It haunted him, ringing in Kylo's ears as if she was standing at his side. "Don't do this, Ben. Don't go this way."

In her eyes, he could almost see the reflection of the man she thought he was. The man she thought he had been, could be...but never had been, and never would be again. The son of Han Solo. The prince of a destroyed planet. The misplaced hope of a doomed rebellion.

He was nothing like the other misfits she liked to collect. All those broken toys, with their ridiculous names and empty smiles. Poe. Finn. Chewbacca. These were the names she called out for now, instead of his own. Kylo shouldn't be surprised, of course. Rey had spent her life picking through garbage, grasping at damaged things, polishing worthless hunks of metal until they shone like treasures. Reluctantly, she traded them away in return for sustenance, unknowingly investing her meager earnings in the only thing of value on Jakku. The price of Rey's life was unfathomable, even to her. But it was precious, and if fate was kind, she would one day realize how much had been sacrificed to prepare her for her true purpose.

Foolish girl…even now, he turns...to strike his true enemy.

The girl...killed Snoke.

The Supreme Leader is Dead. ...Long live the Supreme Leader.

Oh, but there were so many left to destroy. Only then, if ever, would he be safe. If safe was a state that remained in this torn up galaxy. Rey obviously believed that peace was an option. But she hadn't seen the things he had seen. She hadn't done the things he'd been forced to do. Hadn't been forced to choose between total annihilation and partial destruction. At least, not yet.

Ben Solo had been just as naive as her, at one time. Once, he'd believed in balance. But no more.

That boy was long dead. Kylo Ren was a man who knew the meaning of sacrifice. Of struggle. He had become accustomed to suffering in ways that Ben Solo could scarcely imagine. That soft, pathetic child had once moaned about the soreness in his muscles after a day of hauling rocks uphill. Lessons meant to temper his mind and strengthen his body had seemed like torture back then. But that was before he'd seen the truth. Before he'd understood that in order to truly transform, you must become an artisan of pain. Over time, Kylo Ren had beaten, burned, starved, and creatively tortured the weakness from his body and soul. Now, the only obstacle he had yet to conquer existed in his mind.

She was at the heart of it, that final trial. She was his sole remaining burden. HIs test.

"Rey."

The sound of her name crossing his lips caused his stomach to clench with anticipation. Chest slick, heart pounding, Kylo closed his eyes and imagined her there. In his bed. Willing. In his mind, he imagined her smiling down at him, pale legs straddling his waist as her hands slid down the planes of his scarred torso. Kylo's Rey kissed the lines she'd created, lovingly marking the territory she'd conquered. In this dream, she was his, and he was hers. Completely. Irrevocably. In this fantasy, the scales had finally been tipped in his favor.

But that didn't mean there was no struggle remaining. Rey enjoyed toying with him, like he was nothing more than a tool for her pleasure. Now, Kylo imagined her teasing him with her mouth, flicking her tongue across his tip until he was panting with need. Fingers deft and nimble, she tortured him to the brink. Every so often, she would rock her hips forward, as if to take him fully, but at the last second, she would swerve away, swooping down to plant a kiss on his chest before resuming her handiwork. If only he could free himself from her influence. If only he could banish her from his mind, from his dreams, from his bed. But the problem remained, he didn't wish to lose her.

Kylo groaned, half laughing through his despair. "Rey, please, I need to be inside you."

"How dare you."

The coldness in her voice shocked Kylo, almost as much as its nearness. Eyes flying open, he found himself staring into Rey's eyes. Her face was red, and she quickly flicked her gaze to the floor. Fists clenched, fully clothed, she stood rigidly against the wall next to his bed, as if she'd been force frozen to the spot.

"Rey...what's…?"

In that moment, Kylo realized this wasn't His Rey, the one from his fantasies. This was the real Rey. And she was furious. For that, he couldn't quite blame her. Some small part of him felt satisfaction that she was furious with him. That she was anything with him.

Also, she was blushing.

Of course she was. After all, he was mostly naked, and pleasuring himself to thoughts of her. Kylo knew little of the ways of women, but he did understand how that could make her feel slightly uncomfortable. And yet…

Over the past several weeks, Kylo had spent hours on end trying to reach her. He had pressed against the barrier between them with all his might, pleading with the powers of the universe to let him see her, just once. But somehow, she'd managed to keep him at bay. Cut off. He hadn't even been able to feel her presence, until now.

But after all this time, now that he'd let his own barriers fall away, here she was. He hadn't brought her here. Hadn't called her, at least not intentionally. And yet, she stood before him, solid and fully aware. And she didn't seem to have any intention of leaving.

Kylo shifted in bed to face her, letting his feet drop to the floor. Silky black sheets pooled across his lap, failing to fully disguise his current state of desire. Looking at her wasn't helping, but he honestly couldn't help himself. Seeing Rey, the actual Rey, after so much time was like water after crawling in the desert.

"It's good to see you," he told her, his voice surprisingly calm, considering how desperate he felt. "For a while, I thought you had forgotten me."

Rey grimaced toward the floor. "If only you would let me."

Alright, so she had the intent to leave him. But did she have the ability? Something warm and soft tingled across his skin, and he realized it was her. In this form, he could feel her gaze, the target of her attention, almost as if it was a physical touch.

"So why don't you leave?"

Kylo couldn't take his eyes from her. Her body was taut, aura sparking like a lectro-bow string. Fists clenched, eyes flashing, lip curled. She was clearly contemplating how to murder him with her bare hands. It was beautiful.

"You can't leave, can you?" She didn't answer, and Kylo felt his confidence rise. "Because some part of you, however small, wants to stay. Why is that, do you think?"

Taking his life into his hands, Kylo stood, gripping the sheets loosely around his waist with one fist. He moved toward her. She didn't move away, though she could have, he guessed. Their strange force connection brought them together, but didn't inhibit their movements. Wherever she was, she was choosing to make a stand, rather than moving away or even attempting to go through him. What a fascinating experiment in physics.

Kylo took another small step in her direction. She exhaled, a small puff of frustration, and he watched her eyes flit upward, before going off to one side. It seemed impossible for her to meet his eyes, which was strange. Before, she had always seemed to enjoy burning a hole in his blackened soul with her bright, hopeful stare.

"Rey. Why won't you look at me?"

Looking down at her, tilting his head so as not to miss a single emotion as it crossed her face, Kylo dropped the sheet. Rey gasped, a tiny, helpless sound that betrayed her feelings. Was it merely surprise? Shock? Disgust? Kylo tried to read between the lines of her body language, but failed. She was always so open, usually. But now, everything about her seemed a contradiction.

He was about to turn away, to apologize, to use his own power to send her back to wherever she came, when something amazing happened. Rey took a deep, shuddering breath, as if to steady herself. She closed her eyes, exhaled, and opened them to look up at his face.

"I can't."

"You can't...what?" Kylo's voice was soft, embarrassingly breathless. "Why are you here with me, if you don't want to be with me?"

One hand raised, fist uncurled, slowly. Rey dropped her gaze to his lips, pressed her fingertips against his chest. So lightly, yet it almost forced Kylo to come undone.

"I don't know," she whispered. "I don't understand this. I don't know what any of this means."

Kylo reached up to grasp her shoulders, gently pulling her closer. She let herself be brought in, until their bodies were almost touching. Kylo felt the warmth of her body against his skin, and yet for a moment, he forgot that he was naked and she was clothed. The most dangerous vulnerability in that moment had nothing to do with his body. He was on the verge of losing his power, and doing it willingly. Trading it away for one moment of pure connection.

"I think it means that we are meant for each other."

With that, Kylo dipped his head and brushed his lips lightly against hers. Rey gasped, this time definitely in surprise. But he didn't give her the chance to think it through. Pulling her in a bit closer, he tried it again, kissing her gently before pulling back. This time, her lips followed his. He took that as a sign, and plunged in fully. With his mouth, he opened hers, allowing his tongue to probe inside. Teeth nibbling, tongues tangling, breathing into each other, Kylo and Rey fused into a single creature of mindless need. Her hands slid down his chest, while his reached down to grasp her legs and wrap her securely around him.

Kylo swallowed another gasp as Rey found herself straddling his erection, separated from him only by her thin leggings. The sensation of fabric against his skin, preventing him from the soft warmth of her body, was worse than any torture he'd yet experienced. Rey arched her back, writhing in his arms. Was she trying to move toward him, or away? He could only guess.

For a long moment, their eyes locked. Kylo didn't dare move. He was terrified of losing her for good. Any moment now, she could disappear, leaving him cold and alone in the dark. But then, she took a deep breath, and pulled him against her. Biting her lower lip, she moved against him. Slowly at first, with clumsy movements. But soon, her breath was coming out in tiny, rhythmic gasps. Her eyes fluttered closed as she concentrated.

Kylo moved his hands to her hips, encouraging her movements. It took all he had not to lose control. He matched her rhythm as best he could, thrusting upward with each grind of her body against his. Before long, her gasps turned to little moans, then cries of excitement. He buried his face in her neck and fucked her with everything he had, until finally, she screamed in release.

"Ben!"

He should've been furious. Even now, the memory of his past stole from his present. But in that moment, all that existed was the sound of her voice in his head. The scrape of her nails on his naked back. The pressure of her thighs around his waist. In that moment, all Ben wanted was to be free. All he wanted was her.

One final thrust, and he was losing control along with her. Grasping at her body while releasing everything else. Shouting her name until his voice broke.

"Rey...Rey...Rey!"

When he opened his eyes, Kylo Ren was on his knees, hands pressed against the cold black wall of his room. The glossy wall cast back a dulled version of his pale, naked frame. For a long moment, he closed his eyes and breathed, feeling like his chest was burdened by her loss. Had she ever really been there? Had he only imagined them together, again? It was impossible to know for sure. Either way, she was gone now. And he was alone with his regret.

As Kylo Ren stood to gather his sheets and return to bed, a sudden stinging sensation made him pause. He moved back to the most reflective part of the wall, turning slowly until he could look over his shoulder and see the upper part of his back. There, reflected clearly in the obsidian surface, were the marks Rey's fingernails had left across his skin.

Kylo Ren couldn't help but smile at himself in the mirror. Softly, he laughed. A man who suddenly looked an awful lot like Ben Solo laughed back.


End file.
